The Heir of the North
by TheWhytePhoenix
Summary: "Are you the father of her unborn child?" Tyrion asked, the disappointment was clear in his words. Love affairs and bastard children can tear whole Kingdoms apart, this child might just be the last secret Westeros could handle. Jon didn't utter a word and the silence was all the confirmation that Tyrion needed to know the truth about Sansa's unborn child.


As Tyrion watched Jon from the other side of the cell, he didn't think there was a sorrier looking man in the whole of Westeros. His hair let out of the confines of a hair tie and presumably hadn't been washed or brushed since he was thrown into his cell. Although, it looked as though it had been cut at some point, looking shorter than it did the last time he saw Jon. It probably didn't help that Jon was still wearing the same clothes he had on that day as well, they were thoroughly dirty now, having already been covered in dirt and ash from the destruction of the dragon fire, but Daenerys blood was probably also stained on his clothes.

Having already recounted the meeting between himself and the lords and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms, Tyrion thought it might be considerate to give some happy news to the ruined man before him. "It appears that your sister, Lady Sansa, is with child. Your younger sister was sent in her place while she stayed behind in Winterfell, I believe she was far too close to childbirth to travel such a long distance"

Jon had been holding his head in his hands, so physically drained, most probably from a lack of food and water. But after those words had left Tyrion's lips the young man's whole posture changed, it went from exhausted to rigged in a moment. Jon's head whipped up to face Tyrion, his eyes confused, and his eyebrows furrowed questioningly "Sansa's with child?" his voice was full of despair and shock.

Tyrion couldn't help but be surprised with Jon's reaction, a child born out of a marriage wasn't ideal, but these things could be overlooked considering the circumstances of the last few years. A new life was something that should be celebrated during these times of mass deaths and destruction. Tyrion concluded that Jon had been upset because of the potential shame Sansa might experience over this and how the child might be treated due to its birth status, something that Jon was probably highly sensitive about considering his own parents. "I wouldn't worry about her child's status as a bastard, I'm sure she can legitimise it as soon as it's born, she is the power in the North now"

Jon leapt to his feet, absolute frustration led to a wave of all-consuming anger which was gushing through his entire body, his heart beating wildly and his harsh breathing pushing against his ribs. His fist violently met the cold stone brick of his cell, pain radiating up his arm although it rested firmly in his knuckles, where one was surely broken. The force and the jagged bits of concrete caused his skin to split and blood was now running down his arm. "Why?" Jon whispered to no one in particular, this question wasn't the kind you answered.

_Why? Did she know when I left? How could she let this happen?_ Jon's thoughts rushed through his head, not giving him enough time to thoroughly consider each one. "How? How could this happen?" his voice still only a whisper, but Tyrion could still hear every word.

With Jon still leaning with his hand against the stone wall, Tyrion considered Jon's reaction. This wasn't the typical response one had to finding out that their sister was with child, this was something else completely different. Watching Jon sink to his knees, his exhaustion and pain reducing his strength, Tyrion thought back on the interactions of Jon and Sansa. They hadn't seemed close at all when he had first met them almost ten years ago, although Sansa didn't seem to keep company with any of her siblings when she was younger, spending most of her time with the Poole girl. Tyrion had just assumed that their relationship was more of the same when they were making their way back to Winterfell, Jon was protective of his sister that much was obvious to Tyrion, but what older brother wasn't.

Although, when they arrived back in Winterfell, Tyrion was surprised to see how the two interacted. While they weren't always in each other's company they did both seem to gravitate towards the other, personal space didn't seem to be an issue in their case, especially when they were disagreeing about something. They also always seemed to be able to communicate feelings with a look, almost as if they were having their own conversation inside another, which did make for some thoroughly confusing meetings. He'd seen a connection between two siblings like this before… his own.

_No, there's no way that Jon and Sansa…_ but a thought had suddenly occurred to him. There had been a rumour that the two would often share the same room at night, he had assumed at the time that it was out of childhood comfort, although Daenerys had been none too happy about it. The idea that two Stark children would be involved in an incestuous relationship was utterly ridiculous to Tyrion. Although, they weren't siblings, they were cousins, and marriage between cousins was common practice in some of the Northern Houses. They might've been raised by the same man in the same house, but they weren't close as children. It had also occurred to Tyrion that Jon was a Targaryen, maybe his dragon blood was influencing his desires.

"Are you the father of her unborn child?" Tyrion asked, the disappointment was clear in his words. Love affairs and bastard children can tear whole Kingdoms apart, this child might just be the last secret Westeros could handle. Jon didn't utter a word and the silence was all the confirmation that Tyrion needed to know the truth about Sansa's unborn child.

There was only one thing that Jon could focus on, it was that in Winterfell Sansa was soon going to give birth to their child, and she was **alone**. He was here, so was Arya and Bran, and she was alone. He wondered if Sansa had told them who the child's father was, _No_ he thought to himself. Bran probably already knew everything, but Arya would be horrified and disgusted to find out the truth about Jon and Sansa's relationship. To her, Jon was their brother and the idea of anything else was incomprehensible.

But, the **moment **he had laid eyes on Sansa his heart just couldn't be stopped, she was so beautiful even in all the dirt and the grime from her escape from Ramsey. He had wanted her, he needed her and eventually he took her. He had her in every way he could think, he had her heart and her soul and he knew it wasn't right. But he wasn't strong enough to stay away from her embrace and her bed. It was what drove him to Dragonstone and it was what drove him into giving Daenerys what she wanted from him. He had thought, hoped, that when he would arrive back in Winterfell that it would be different, because of Daenerys, who he cared for. That couldn't be denied, he had a connection to her the moment he met her, a connection that he would later discover was strong blood ties, stronger than any he had with anyone else. He regretted what Dany had ended up becoming, a product of their family's madness, a woman that had lost almost everyone that loved her and was corrupted by the absolute power of her dragons. He loved her, but he loved her as he loves Arya and Bran.

He pictured Sansa, sitting in the Godswood, bundled up in her furs to keep away the frost. She would be softly caressing her stomach, which would be full and round, the place where their child rested. Whispering the sweetest stories to their child, telling it of a long childhood spent in a long summer where it would be safe and loved. Ghost would also be sitting there, lying down next to her feet, his head resting on her legs and his nose nudging her stomach so that he could feel when the baby moved. She told their child of its parents, and how much they loved each other, which was no comparison to how much they would love their babe when it was born.

Tears rose from his eyes and dripped down his face, _a babe I won't be able to raise or care for. A child that will go without a father like I went without a mother_ he thought in despair.

"I suppose there's more Targaryen in you than I had thought…" Tyrion broke the silence with a completely unappreciated comment. "I suppose it should have been obvious to me more than anyone else considering my own siblings… close relationship" Jon, now sitting on the stone floor with his back against the wall, looked at Tyrion and gave him a dark look. This caused Tyrion to promptly shut his mouth before truly angering the man.

"When can I leave?" Jon's only concern now was leaving this place and going home to Sansa, _the Nights Watch be damned_, he thought. _Fuck everyone that think they can keep me away from my home, my child, and from Sansa._ He was going to play along with this charade, he decided, but once he was in the North, he would find a way to escape and he would be with his family. And if anyone tries to stop him, they'll wish they'd never laid eyes on him.

* * *

Sansa made her way back inside into the heat and the safety of the castle walls, after constant pestering from her guard, one of the few different members that would be with her at all times. Arya's idea, of course. Although, she did understand the necessity of her shadow, not only was she declaring the North an independent kingdom, but she was also soon to give birth to an heir. The heir to not only the North, but the child of the rightful heir to the whole of the Seven Kingdoms. For her child to be born was dangerous for the stability that Westeros so desperately needed, a stability that she didn't want to break, but she has and would do anything to protect her family and her unborn child.

"My lady" another guard regarded her as she came to the doors of her chamber doors, Sansa acknowledged him with a nod of her head and a smile. He pushed open the doors as she walked inside, her maids were already in the room preparing a bath for her. Desperate for a hot bath her maids helped her undress, something that she couldn't do by herself even if she wanted to, and into the steaming tub of water.

She had sent Arya and Bran to Kings Landing to bring Jon back almost four months ago now, and there still wasn't any word. She had wanted desperately to go with them, and fight for Jon herself, not trusting anyone else to what was necessary. It wasn't until Arya had talked some sense into her that she decided to remain in the confines of Winterfell. The welfare of her unborn child too important to risk travelling on the road, not even mentioning the possibility of a war breaking out. When she had told Arya of her pregnancy Arya had demanded that she tell her who had touched her, not believing that she would willingly let another man touch her, except Jon wasn't just any man. Jon was... Jon.

_Jon_, Sansa felt sick when she thought about Jon, being locked up in that city, a city full of evil and depravity and greed. A city full of people that would do anything and everything to get a leg up. _Most of them are probably dead now…_ the thought gave a her a sense of relief for a moment, it didn't last long though as she became mortified over her thoughts. _No one deserves that… to be burnt alive… crushed… watching as their whole world and their children are engulfed in dragon fire…_ her thoughts bleak and causing tears to run down her face dropping in the water. It doesn't matter how much Sansa had seen and done, the idea of anyone burning alive was horrific.

She clutched at her stomach, trying to shield her unborn child from the cruel world that her womb was protecting it from, though it would not do so for long. Her babe was almost ready to be brought into the world, a thought that terrified her more than any white walker ever had.

With tears streaming down her face, her maid Fiyonna came back into her chambers to find her sobbing clutching her belly in now cold water. "My lady! Are you okay?" she questioned, worried about the health of the child, wrapping a towel around her shoulders and lifting her out of the tub.

After seeing no visible sign of harm to the child she decided to lead her lady to the chair in front of the fireplace and help get her warm and dry. Sansa still crying and clutching her child through her stomach whispering "I can't protect them, no one can protect them." Fiyonna finished drying Sansa's hair as she continued to whisper the same thing. Fiyonna was a young woman, unmarried and without parents but she had three younger siblings to care for. Her hair was a light shade of brown, almost blonde in certain lights, with dark green eyes that gave her a wise look. She had looked up to Lady Stark, the moment she had come to Winterfell, leaving her village in preparation of the war with the Knight King, her lady had given them shelter, food and most of all safety. Through her lady she had found strength, it was now time for her to try and repay that favour.

Fiyonna came to stand in front of the lady and knelled down in front of her, putting her hands on the sides of her face she lifted Sansa's face to look at her, which stopped her whispering. Fiyonna knew she was overstepping boundaries, serious boundaries, but she just **knew** that the lady wouldn't punish her for the comfort.

Sansa's eyes drifted to her maids eyes, "You are our Queen, you have given us shelter, you have made sure we have food and you have protected us from foreign rule and a cold death from the hands of the undead" Fiyonna dropped her hands from Sansa's face, she instead took her hands into her own. "Most importantly, you have given us all a home. Winterfell… The North… You have given us the opportunity to live and be with our families. You have also given us an heir, someone to continue care for my own children and my grandchilren... Even if you cannot protect your child... we will. We would die for our future King or Queen, just as we would fight and die for you"

Sansa's breath caught in her throat, more tears welling in her eyes. Though she was unconvinced of Fiyonna's words, they still moved her immensely. It had been so long since someone... anyone had given her praise without having an ulterior motive. She tore her eyes away from Fiyonna, uncomfortable at her words of admiration, and settled her gaze at her hands intertwined with her maids. They stayed in this position for a moment, the affirmation of her actions settled her heart for a moment but was her mind was soon back on Jon "I couldn't save him, I don't even know if he's still alive…" stray tears escaping down Sansa's face.

Fiyonna didn't know exactly who she was talking of, but she assumed that she was talking of either the father of her child or of her cousin, Jon Snow, or was it Targaryen? Fiyonna wasn't sure. The subject of the father of their Queens babe was of much discussion, there had been a rumour that it was the child of Sandor Clegane, that they had fallen in love during their time in Kings Landing, his obvious devotion to her was proof enough for some. There were other rumours as well, such as it was Tyrion Lannisters child, that their marriage wasn't just a farce, others said her babe was fathered by a wolf, giving to the North a true heir. This one Fiyonna **didn't** believe, finding the other options much more likely. Another possibility that had been mentioned quite often, was that she had fallen in love with her cousin Jon. All of the household staff knew of the fact that they often spent the night together, which meant that everyone knew. There had been a story from before she had come to Winterfell that the nights when her cousin would stay in her room the sheets had often been found… dirty… Fiyonna tried not to give gossip credence though.

Fiyonna stopped her train of thought there, the identity of the babe's father wasn't important, it was their Queen's child and that was all that mattered. "We're going to get you into bed now, afterwards come back with some food" Sansa was easily led to her bed, dressed and tucked under her covers. After eating her dinner her last thoughts were of Jon. They were lying down in their own bed together, his arms around her while his hands rested protectively on her stomach over their unborn child.


End file.
